


Lost, and Still Lost

by IceMistyWolf (orphan_account)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Physical Abuse, Pining, Post-Canon, Religious Guilt, Self-Denial, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-11 17:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8999917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/IceMistyWolf
Summary: He trusted Mr Graves... ... and that was the grave mistake that tore him apart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for this terrible drone of a chapter, I haven't written in a while and this is probably one of my worst pieces of writing haha  
> But enjoy anyways, and feel free to leave a comment or point out any mistakes because I've got more than enough time on my hands right now and as I said before I'm way out of practice  
> Also, I feel so sorry for Credence he needs someone to comfort him apart from Mr Graves/Grindelwald (I strongly dislike Grindelwald can we all just pretend that he was never here ;M;) and I have no idea when I'm going to post or how long the next chapter is going to be, I'm just figuring it out as I go along I guess.

The moment he woke up, his eyes were assaulted by the stinging needles of sunlight that wormed its way underneath his tightly closed eyelids and burned him from inside out. Feeling rough stone beneath him, he rapidly ran through his memories. This was not home! He had no idea how he had gotten here. All he could remember were broken whispers of love and hope, ghosts of caresses and cradles and he knew, even at his age, that the unforgiving stone that chilled him, immobilised him, was not what he had been promised. Where was he? Where was his mama? His head pounded like the footsteps currently making their way towards his trembling form. Instinctively, he curled in further on himself, trying to shield his face before he realised that his aching limbs refused to budge. Whoever was making their way to him had stopped, for which he was both grateful and ungrateful, for when whoever it was moved, at least he had a vague idea of where they were. This way, he could at least pretend that he was alone, and maybe even somewhere safe at home with his mother. However, later, he would realise how far away from that blissful dream he was. The voice that spoke to him was cold and stern, a woman, almost emotionless.

“Get up you worthless boy.” At her commanding tone, his heart lurched, and he immediately tried to obey her, tried his best to get on his feet like any other boy could have. His fingers managed to twitch a little before it became unresponsive again. Barely a second passed until he felt sharp fingers grip his shoulder, pressing down deep into the flesh and his parched mouth cracked open just a little to let out a soundless whimper. The woman above him made a sound of disgust at his limp form, then he felt the cruel hand digging into his flesh, digging into the bruised skin from a previous wound, release him. He almost cried out in relief until he felt those same hands undo the clasp, until he felt the tough leather belt whipped out and pulled taught. He stiffened and braced himself, though for what, he didn’t yet know. The cruel, unyielding lashes rained down on his back, each one harder and faster than the one before, each carving deep into his skin, almost enough to draw blood. He tried to shy away from the torrent of pain but found himself unable to move. It was like being pierced by thousands of tiny daggers, over and over and over until his back was torn into nothing but burning shreds of raw flesh.

“Your mother was a witch!” His eyes had shot open at some point, though the agony that engulfed his body could never be compared to the insignificant sting clouding his eyes. “A sinful, broken witch! She deserved to die- God took mercy on her and ended her suffering!" she paused for a moment and raised the belt, delivering an agonizing strike at his side, before she continued, "Tell me, are you just as wicked as her?” He couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. Her cruel words stung almost as much as the white-hot pain that clawed at his mind, that framed his vision until all he could see was black again. He couldn’t reopen his heavy eyelids and he didn’t have the courage to try. He was jolted forward every time the whip struck him, the threadbare shirt, sweat-stained and thin, barely providing any protection from the torture being inflicted on his young and innocent body. There was no strength left in his body or soul to even make a sound. He suffered wordlessly and dared not move, longing for the comfort of his real family, even long after the woman had gone. A single thought haunted him like a mantra, was he possibly a witch, like his real mother had been? A sticky, clammy feeling trickled down his bruised back. Perhaps the whip had actually broken enough skin for his blood to escape from the welts on his back. He didn’t know how to do anything but try to curl in further on himself.

And that was how six-year-old Credence had been introduced into the world, into his family, and how Credence had suffered his first beating. And that day a sense of foreboding was buried deep beneath him, writhing, twisting, refusing to settle.

 

One day, he was shuffling cautiously down the stairs and into position beside the kitchen sink, ready to work away at his onerous chores; to once again scrub that charred pot free of the clinging remains of the previous meal, when he noticed something was different. He always kept his head down, gaze low, never able to glance at one particular spot for too long before his mind, dark, paranoid and full of growled threats and painful reminders of never ending lashings. Despite the lack of his mother’s presence, of which he was infinitely grateful for, something still felt off. He looked around. All the long, arching windows usually covered with layers of grime and dust had been forced open to allow the icy chill of the wind creep into the already cold house, if one could even call it that. He paused, shocked, horrified that he had allowed his mind to wander down that path. How could he be so ungrateful? It was a sin- and if he was found out he would be punished! He frantically knelt and prayed for forgiveness. To think of his mom like that, to think of his home like that! What an act of kindness, a miracle from god it must have been, to have granted him the blessings of having a safe place to sleep and a roof over his head. He would have nothing if god hadn’t led his mom to him, not even the foul gruel that barely satisfied the monster that resided in him. It always growled, clawed, begged for more, but that was greed and greed was one of the worst sins he could ever commit. He wouldn’t allow himself to defy god again. Even as he tried to reassure himself, his resolve crumbled and he worried, again, what if he had been cursed by a witch? What if he really was as iniquitous as his real mother had been, and as disgusting as his mom now said he was? He paused, staring blankly at a particularly dark crack running through the stone floor.

His real mother was gone, but she had been kind and gentle with feather-light touches and gentle words. Even if he was a witch, Credence couldn’t find it in his twisted heart to truly hate her. It was strange. But the unrest inside him seemed to settle a little. Then he thought of his mom now, and it roared to life again. She- the woman- Mary Lou or something, she was not his mother. He decided to call her ma from now on. At least then he would be reminded that she was not his real mother, that she didn’t deserve that title. He paused, and his thoughts returned to forbidden territory. Credence knew he wasn’t good enough, knew he wasn’t able to pull his own weight. But what if magic was actually part of him, what if witchcraft wasn’t considered a disgrace, a curse? Then he remembered his ma and shivered. He should listen to his ma, he should try harder to obey the rules. He deserved the beatings. Maybe the wickedness crawling in his veins would be banished along with the traitorous thoughts that infested his mind. Because despite everything, the beatings were the only moment where he got any other human contact that wasn’t the bitter grimace that seemed to be the only expression his ma wore. Because even as she was tearing his back apart again and again, ripping the barely healed skin and the spattering bruises that littered his sides, he knew that she had that expression on her face. It was the only time where she bore the malicious smile of someone who was kept at bay, for now, until they decided to strike again. Someone who knew they held power in their hands, enough to destroy the fragile soul of another human.

And while it was unpleasant all the same, it was better than her usual blank expression. It resembled a building wave, ready to crash onto the shore again, to leave its mark and to let its presence be known. Maybe that’s why ma would constantly beat him, to remind him that she was in charge. To punish him for all his wrongdoings. Maybe he really was the reason why he would have to doze fitfully on his stomach, unable to change positions lest the raw, angry wounds across the rest of his body decide to roar awake again. He tried so hard to be a good boy. He tried to listen to everything his ma said, everything she taught him to do. He didn’t sin, at least he tried desperately not to. Maybe being alive was sinning in itself, maybe being such a burden to the kind soul that was his mother was worse than all the other sins he could commit- that explained why he was constantly punished. Because no matter what he did, no matter what he tried… His ma still seemed to hate him.

Nonetheless, from that day on he tried to make himself as useful as possible around the house: forcing himself to clean and polish until the pain in his abused body just became too much to bear, rearranging each and every room until they could hardly be differentiated from the other, resting less and less until the shadows under his eyes seemed to darken even more than usual, until he almost lacked the energy to get up from his lumpy mattress each morning. But he told himself that this was what good boys did, what they would do naturally without forcing themselves like he did. He would do it for his ma. he would refuse the sinful temptations of Satan and push down the dark mass that seemed to be ever growing inside him. Or had he been infected with magic the moment he had been born? Was that why his real mama left him, had been taken away from him? No, he thought. His real mother was a witch, and he would never be like her. He had sworn to god that he would not be broken, would not turn to darkness and evil like his mother had. Magic was prohibited and witches needed to die. He had a good ma now, and he knew he should be grateful, even though all she offered were scathing words and harsh criticism. Deep inside him, the dark mass swirled again. He wondered if it would just become him, enveloping him in its pulsing energy, or rather him become it, to sink into that blackness until all he felt would be sweet oblivion.

He was shocked to realise that he had wasted so much time buried in his worthless thoughts. He recited a random psalm and prayed for forgiveness, trying hard not to cry. He hurried to gather all his supplies and immersed himself in his chores, all the while praying that he would not be caught before he finished. Unfortunately, he soon heard the click of his ma’s shoes on the rough stone floor. He panicked and frantically stirred the pot of unfinished stew, his hands shaking uncontrollably so that even holding the ladle steady required the careful concentration that he couldn’t afford. Dread seemed to tear at his insides the more his ma neared, feeding the restless storm inside him. He hastily turned to greet her the moment her footsteps ceased and lowered his head. Don’t speak out of turn, he told himself. His mama’s tone, bitter with disappointment, shook him to his very core.

“Credence. What is this?” When he couldn’t muster up the nerve to reply or to look at her steely cold eyes, she snarled, “You wretched boy. You have had the whole day to do your duties, and you have not managed to complete even one? You indolent boy! You don’t deserve to be in this house.” His ma drew in a deep breath before she continued, her voice now deadly calm, “From now on, you no longer have the privilege to eat this food. You have proven yourself to be a sinful, repulsive creature- just as disgusting as your mother was!”

He tried to shrink away from the unforgiving words but found himself trapped in the corner, still shakily clutching the dripping ladle to himself, trying to stifle his pitiful sobs, silently pleading for his ma to stop. But she still wasn’t done.

“You,” She spat out, “are a freak.”

With that, his ma tore the fraying fabric of his shirt in her haste as she dragged him to the bottom of the staircase, hand out, expectantly waiting once again for his belt. It was a shadowed, secluded corner that he had long associated with the terror that thrummed though his tainted blood. He wordlessly handed his belt to his ma and turned, bracing himself for the wave of incoming slashes.

After that day, his mother left him alone more often than she ever had before. He liked to pretend that it was because she trusted him more, because she appreciated the way he was helping around the house. Over the course of two months, he had slowly starved himself and lessened his food portions, getting used to the constant ache in his stomach, getting used to the never-ending pain that even sleep could not ease away. His ma didn’t mention the dangerous condition her son was in, or the fact that she hardly saw him eat. But she hardly noticed him anyway, or maybe she simply did not care. The beatings did lessen a little, though, but perhaps that was because of his ma being too preoccupied with the matter at hand to pay attention to her son at all. Or maybe it was because he was older now, because he was 12, because throughout all those years he had never shown a single act of defiance.

 

A few months later, he was jolted awake by the sound of his mother’s voice. Fear wracked him in its paralysing grip and he shook, curling in on himself, trying to make himself smaller, less noticeable. He knew it was no use, he was the only one ever here. “Chastity, this is Credence.” As if merely speaking of him left a foul taste in her mouth, his ma’s tone hardened.

“Credence! Get up and greet your sister.” Credence hauled himself to his feet at once, not daring to look up.

“H-Hello, I’m… Credence…” He stuttered weakly. He mentally cursed himself for being so pathetic, but he knew he couldn’t help it.

“It’s good to see you, Credence. I’m Chastity- your new sister.” Her voice was lilting and calm, the opposite of the way he barely managed to stutter out his words. Though there was an underlying tone of fear that he noticed, Chastity didn’t appear to be very phased by ma at all. Then there was a rustle of clothing and Credence’s apprehensive gaze flitted around the room. Was his mother going to beat him right now, in front of his new sister? He hadn’t been punished in a long while, a week almost. His back had almost fully healed, silver scars and red marks being all that marred the pale skin. His trembling hands curled into a fist, clutching the thin fabric of his shirt in a desperate attempt to calm his racing heartbeat. During his muddled panic, his mother had spoken. Only realizing this now, he flinched and shifted nervously. He told himself that it was probably fine, he hadn’t meant to lose himself in his thoughts as he so commonly did nowadays. It was his fault that he hadn’t heard her, he deserved to be beaten again, beaten until his stupid mind finally behaved and listened. He hunched over further.

“Pay attention!” His ma spat viciously. “Where is our meal? Why haven’t you prepared it already? You filthy boy, you sicken me! After all these years, you have not changed at all. You are still as ungrateful as your mother. As your sinful, wicked mother!” He shook his head and his cheeks flared in embarrassment, looking down at the smudged, dust covered floor. He must have slept in, such a stupid mistake, such a stupid child, stupid, stupid, stupid… He hastily muttered an apology and scrambled down the stairs, hardly daring to breathe as he brushed past his ma. Stumbling into the kitchen and blindly reaching for the pot to again make another meagre meal, he felt scorching tears well up, but he refused to let them fall. He would not allow himself to indulge in that sinful weakness. If he truly was broken, then it was better to hide it deep down where nobody could ever know. He wondered what his sister, Chastity, thought of him. A thin, malnourished, gangly boy, he didn’t deserve to be in her or his ma’s presence. That night, he skipped his meal entirely, splitting the food between the other members of his family. When he finally gathered up the courage and looked at Chastity, she was staring at him impassively, with a calculating, almost curious look.

True to his horror, the next night his ma stopped him with a cold grip as he headed back towards his room. Chastity had long gone up to her room already to rest, but he still feared that she would somehow be able to see him the way he was now- a dreadful, ugly creature, mangled with scars and bruises.

“Credence…” Her menacing tone indicated all too well what her motive was. He took off his belt and handed it to her, trembling. He wished he knew what he did wrong this time, but the beatings were always wordless, silent. The second time he had been punished, he had begged her to stop until his pitiful voice had cracked and faded. She never listened; there was no point. So he just held his breath and quivered as the belt struck him relentlessly, with tears streaming down his face, this time unable to hold them back.

 

The following week passed without much trouble, his days blurring into a myriad of faint memories: rising early, completing his chores, keeping his head down, enduring the beatings as silently as possible and always, always trying to control the monster inside him. The penitent look that haunted his face no longer took careful concentration to keep up. It simply settled into his features and became part of him, just like the scars and the abuse and the pain had. The week turned into months before something that finally varied from his usual routine occurred.

He had been in his room, alone as he had been for majority of his life, when he heard the all too familiar thud of footsteps heading towards his room. He shivered and shrank in on himself, preparing himself for the barrage of hits he knew would soon carve into his back. Briefly searching through his memory for any wrongdoing he had done, he forced himself back out into the cruel grip of reality. He shuffled back on his thin, worn mattress as his door slowly swung open, the pitiful creak mirroring his emotions. Trembling, he looked back down, his fingers already resting on his belt. “Credence?” The soft, cautious voice was not his ma’s. Why was Chastity here? Was she going to flaunt all the luxuries that ma had pampered her with? Or worse, was she the one who was going to punish him? It was humiliating enough already, but to have his own sister do such a thing to him…

“Credence, are you ok?” He could hear the concern ringing in her voice and swallowed down a sudden urge to laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t felt the emptiness gnawing at his insides, when his back hadn’t been riddled with scars, when he had been ok. He heard shuffling and more footsteps. His sister sighed.

“I’m not going to hurt you like mother does. I know that she beats you, Credence. You don’t deserve that.” Credence didn’t know if his shock or disbelief showed, but Chastity continued on regardless. “I want to help you.”

At this, Credence couldn’t stop himself from jolting forward, his gaze snapping up to his sister’s. There was a gentleness there that he had never seen before, and he looked away, unable to bear such an emotion being directed at him. He paused, trying to find the right words to say. He managed a shaky rasp, his voice hoarse from disuse.

“Why... Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to help you,” she repeated. “Here, I haven’t got much time, but have this. Just stay strong, ok?”

And with that, Chastity dropped a bundle of clothing in his lap, patted him gently on the shoulder, and left him with confused tears in his eyes and a sudden urge to beg her to stay.

 

After that, his mother took in more children. Things changed. His room was no longer his, it was cluttered with thin mattresses for each new addition to the family. None of the adopted children had the luxury of a blanket or pillow, yet when he tidied all the rooms he found Chastity’s room with all of the luxuries that the others didn’t have. He had been shocked, confused, but told himself that there must be a reason. So Credence kept his mouth shut, and pretended that he hadn’t seen anything. His ma, too, changed, teaching more vehemently about the word of god and the perilous dangers of magic. The other children didn’t protest, they drank up her words and clung to the word of god. They were all mostly the same as Chastity, though she was, by far, ma’s favourite.

Credence at first didn’t understand. Why was he the one who was ordered around? Why was he the one who was responsible for all the incidents and mishaps that happened around the house? Why was he the only one who was lashed with the belt? As he grew older, he realised that things just were the way they were, that no matter how hard he tried he would be no more than a scapegoat, an outlet for his mother’s pent up fury and frustration. He was hurt, and he sometimes selfishly wished that things were different. He banished those thoughts immediately, afraid that his mother had somehow sensed what he had been thinking. He doubled his efforts that day and begged for god’s forgiveness. The other children were alright. He got his fair share of childish jeers and taunts, though they avoided him when ma was around and scarcely spoke to him otherwise. Almost as if they could see the shroud of pain and suffering wrapped around his hunched shoulders, almost as if they knew being seen around him for too long, if at all, caused trouble. He was isolated, a solitary figure, almost like a ghost in amongst all the others.

So he withdrew further into his shell, building walls and barriers between him and the others over time. The loneliness only added to the pent-up frustration inside him. Then, one girl in particular began to sit next to him more often, during bible studies, during meals. He noticed that she would watch him intently even though he never did nothing interesting. He also noticed that, sometimes, the amount of work he had to do lessened when she was around. He didn’t know what he did to catch her attention, but he didn’t dare approach her. He was a monster, and she was a little girl. And little girls should stay away from monsters. Credence wasn’t stupid. He observed the world around him with dull, lidded eyes, trying not to attract unwanted attention. It was almost as if seeing everyone around him go through their monotonous daily routine calmed him and the abomination inside him. That was why the girl unnerved him so much. Out of all of his sisters, she seemed different somehow… Even though she still looked like them, with her blond hair and blue eyes. Chastity hadn’t acknowledged him in any way after that day, and part of him was grateful. He knew anyone who associated themselves with him would be targeted by his mother. He understood.

He just didn’t like change. He didn’t like being out of control. And he couldn’t even make a dent in the path that god had set in stone for him. He would travel it, bear the constant pain on his fragile body, and take what he was given, even if it was very little. He had to. And even if he was called an asinine child, he knew that in reality, he wasn’t. He just never liked thinking. It brought him unpleasant memories and more often than not rendered him helpless, at the mercy of his own, warped mind. And reality had never been kind to him either. So, he just stayed in the middle, in the unknown. He figured that even if it was a dark and convoluted path, neither of the alternatives had ever been any better.

 

Credence was fourteen when he was allowed to go outside for the first time. His mother had scowled at his pale, hunched body with his gaunt cheeks and disgraceful hair and taken him out with her to get a haircut. The dull scissors used to normally trim the wild mess simply proved to be ineffective after years of persistent trying and his ma had finally resigned herself to that fact. She did not fancy going anywhere near him, she scowled. And the others were just unable to do the job sufficiently. Pain stabbed into Credence’s heart, but he just ignored it. He was used to pain. Besides, he should appreciate the fact that his ma was spending her money on him. He put on the coat and hat that Chastity had given him for the first time and couldn’t resist snuggling into the cozy warmth that enveloped his normally shivering form. His ma frowned at him, Chastity smiled at him, and the staring eyes of his siblings bore into his back.

Outside, the gloomy grey clouds hung low in the sky, brooding and intimidating by sheer size and appearance. Shadows flitted about and danced along the sides of buildings, shying away from the weak sunlight. The cobblestone beneath their feet was covered with dirt and the occasional piece of trash. The road was occupied by black glossy carriages drawn by equally as impressive looking horses, with their manes flowing and their hooves shining as they trotted down the road. Before he could fully take in his surroundings, Credence withdrew his gaze and looked back down at his feet. Many people traversed this path around him, wearing an array of coats, scarves, gloves, hats… Credence felt out of place in his small jacket and ill-fitting trousers. He decided that it was worth being outside properly, without looking longingly out of windows and wishing he could get out of the house for once. He didn’t dare to often, too fearful of incoming punishment to think about the world beyond. He forced himself out of his thoughts again, not allowing them to stray to forbidden territory.

His ma walked briskly with her head held up and her posture stiff, carrying herself with an air of importance. Credence himself was the exact opposite, head bowed, shoulders hunched, and the pair attracted incredulous looks as they walked the short distance to the barbers. Credence no longer wanted to be outside. When they went into the brightly lit room Credence was forced to squint. He looked around at the strangers here, talking to each other, flipping through newspapers while they waited for their friends or family to finish. They were all well dressed, confident, with content looks upon their faces. Credence didn’t belong here, it was too crowded, too expensive, for people who weren’t ugly and shattered and a disgraceful mess. He trailed after his ma anyway. He shook his head and mentally berated himself. He should be grateful that she was spending the time and money to be taking him to the barbers. He was so greedy, such a terrible boy… His ma led him to one of the women who appeared to be working and introduced them both.

“Good morning, my name is Mary Lou Barebones. I would like to get him a haircut.” She pointed a gloved finger at him then quickly returned to her stiff posture. Even as they were out in public, she didn’t even remotely glance in his direction, seeming to only acknowledge Credence when it was necessary. Once again, he felt sorrow and darkness try to take over his mind and barely managed to subdue it before he was being directed to a seat. The lady who his ma had spoken to had wavy, blond hair, and she smiled sweetly before bending down and giving Credence a gentle look. She inspected his current hairstyle, then straightened and allowed him to sit down. The comfortable, plush seat cushioned his aching muscles and he allowed himself to relax a little, even though he still remained tense and cautious. The newly inflicted wounds on his back stung every time he moved, so he tried not to fidget in his seat. His mother was still talking to the woman, appearing to frown for a moment before she nodded and her expression returned to a blank, neutral look.

The woman returned to him and smiled apologetically. _Why is she doing that?_ Credence thought. She had nothing to be sorry for, as far as he knew. Then he stiffened in dreadful realisation- could she be a witch? He trembled at the very thought. The sounds of chatter seemed to grow into a cacophony of terror, threading through the air to torment him. The scissors snapped beside his ear, so close, too close… He could almost feel his mother’s disapproving stare glaring through him again. He stiffened for a moment- was she looking at him right now? Assessing his every moment, watching out for any sign of witchcraft? He felt too exposed being out here all of a sudden, he wanted to go back to the dim rooms back at home and be alone. Paranoia took over him. What if they could see how he really was? What if they knew what a disgrace he was? He felt the beast inside him stir and he struggled to force it down. Was this feeling natural or had he really been infected by magic? He shuddered and resisted the urge to cry, opting instead to pray silently to the heavens.

 

That night, he woke up from his fitful sleep with a start, eyes wide, heart racing and breath rasping hard and fast. He looked around him and rapidly blinked, taking in his surroundings. Nobody else was awake. He was alert, listening for the noise that had first woken him. Shaking, fear clouded his mind even as he heard nothing. Then, there it was, splitting through the air as loud as a gunshot and painful, like the sudden, unexpected slice of a knife- a scream. A scream that was not his- a scream that reverberated around the stone-cold walls of the church and rang high-pitched and trembling through the silent, sinister night. Credence shot out of the room, terror and horror thrumming in his malnourished body. He hardly made a sound and slipped out of the room and onto the dimly lit landing. Nothing but silence greeted him. Clumsily closing the door behind him, he winced when it creaked louder than he had expected and hardly dared to move in fear of making more noise. He tried to reign in the panic and the dreadful thoughts that darted around his mind. His stomach growled painfully; his ma hadn’t allowed him to have anything to eat for days now. Resisting the urge to cry again, he drew multiple deep breaths into his shuddering body. He couldn’t afford to let his ma catch him. Then he stumbled forward again, because he had to know who his ma was punishing, and the scream that still haunted his memory had sounded awfully like-

He stopped. A solitary tear slipped out of his eye and snaked down his cheek, leaving a burning trail. There, with her hair splayed around her on the dirty steps and her blood-stained gown in shreds, her beaten body wracked with sobs, was Chastity. Her desperate pleads streamed forth onto deaf ears and Credence wanted to scream, and shout, and do something, anything to help, but he knew he couldn’t. And all he could do was watch as his ma stood over his sister’s trembling form. All he could do was watch as a savage smile curled her lips before she whipped the belt down again. And that night, as he threw himself back onto his mattress and chocked down his own cries, for the first time as the darkness stirred inside him, he wanted it to burst forth and swallow him whole. He wanted it to take him away. He wanted to destroy everything in this cruel world.

The next day, at dinnertime when his ma wasn’t looking, he tentatively glanced at his sister. She seemed more subdued, not even interacting with their younger siblings. He noticed also that, for once, she had her hair shielding her face instead of being tied back in her usual neat bun. _Are you alright?_ He wanted to ask. Chastity, too, raised her head. There wasn’t even a flicker of recognition in her cold eyes when she stared blankly through him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The recent events involving Credence from Chastity's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am so sorry for the disappointing lack of updates. I hope this chapter isn't that bad- I had no time to edit or get my betas to help me (thank you Lizard, Paris and Kuro)  
> But I hope this suffices as an update anyways. I'll try to write more later but I've been extremely busy with tutoring. Also, it would mean the world to me (both wizarding and no-maj) if you guys could leave a comment, I don't mind constructive criticism!  
> Thanks for reading and generally being awesome =)

Chastity didn’t know what had compelled her to do it. Maybe it was in the way that he always seemed so small, so afraid of everything that he happened to come across- but ma, in particular, seemed to strike fear inside him more than anything. She admitted that their mother was an intimidating woman, with her cold demeanor and her indisputable voice. However, it wasn’t until she had been living with them for almost a year when she had first heard the sobbing cries that slipped through the cracks of her bedroom door. Hastily placing her book back on the shelf, she had eased the door open further, not really knowing what she was expecting. She had had an inkling that something had been horribly wrong for a while now.   
An ominous crack sliced through the brooding silence. Stiffening, she halted her careful footsteps, not daring to go farther. Then, the sobbing returned, followed by a pained gasp that did nothing to cover up another resounding crack. She glimpsed the sharp edge of a belt buckle as it flicked up and caught the dim light, then grimaced as it disappeared beneath the staircase again, almost as if she was the one about to be struck.  
She knew, immediately, that this was the real reason why Credence feared their mother so much. She sifted through her thoughts again, hoping to find something that would contradict this startling realization. Horror dawned on her as she also remembered that Credence was the only one who wore a belt. There was nobody else it could’ve been. After all, there were the only occupants of the church apart from her. And Chastity had never been very oblivious.  
The next day, the urge to help him became almost unbearable. Having to ignore Credence’s fragile form, seeming to shiver even more than usual. She had her fears that their mother might punish her too, that maybe she would be reduced to a trembling mess like him, but she pushed them aside. Maybe it was because he was her brother. Maybe it was because she couldn’t bear to know what was happening then remain a bystander, and the guilt was driving her to do something to help. Either way, she excused herself from lunch early. Mother barely gave her a second glance, nodding in her direction and pursing her lips into a small smile that she had long interpreted as her mom’s form of approval.  
She made her way into her room, closing the door carefully behind her. Deciding that the least she could do for Credence was to give him a gift, she went through a mental list of possibly presents. Credence didn’t seem to own many things, after all. Considering the fact that her books were easily recognizable, she couldn’t give them to Credence- she doubted that he would be interested in her novels anyway. She pondered for a few minutes before she decided on giving her brother something to wear other than his usual plain outfit.   
Sifting through the large variety of clothes in her wardrobe, she selected a few, ones that she hadn’t worn much, if at all. That way, it would be harder to trace back to her, though she prayed that mother wouldn’t notice. She paused, listening closely for her mother’s footsteps. Hearing nothing, she perused the smaller array of clothing before deciding on a simple hat and coat. They looked like they would fit Credence- and though he was older than her, his shrunken frame meant that they were roughly the same size.  
She waited for a while in her room, trying to immerse herself in a book to calm her nerves. Trying to search through her memory as best she could, her mother should be heading back to her room by now. There was no need to worry, though her heart was already thumping and even her hands shook slightly. She had never dared to break any of her mother’s rules, and she didn’t want to think of the repercussions she would receive if she was caught. Shaking her head, she resolved that she would be as careful as she could. Even if it took longer, it was better than not being to make it at all, right?  
By the time she had cautiously crept up the stairs, an hour had already slowly ticked past. Mother had retired to her room as there was no sign of her, and Credence was in his as always. His room was the smallest one, but at least it offered him some semblance of privacy. Chastity had only ever been in it once, the day when she was adopted, the day when she was first introduced to her broken brother. Again, like she had done back then, she forced her frown into a reassuring smile. Furtively scanning the church again, she brought her hand to the doorknob and twisted it cautiously, wincing when the door squeaked open.  
When she peeked in, Credence was curled on his thin mattress, worn with the colours bleached from years of use. Chastity took in her surroundings more thoroughly now that mother’s overbearing eagle-eyed presence wasn’t monitoring her every action. There were no adornments in the room, and there was an almost disturbing lack of personal belongings. All that was there was a simple oak cabinet, the wood faded and distorted by stains. It sat, cold and lonely, beside the mattress that Chastity supposed served as Credence’s bed. The small window that overlooked one of the main roads was covered with a thin film of dust from the outside. Faint fingerprints were pressed on the clear glass, well cleaned like the rest of the church. Chastity supposed that this was all Credence had to do, as opposed to her and mother’s busy lives. Well, she attended the local school and her ma was often occupied with stacks of paper and often went out during the day, but that would be considered busy compared with Credence’s mundane life, filled with endless lists of chores. And pain, she added sadly.   
Being restricted to the church’s gloomy confines couldn’t have been fun- Chastity couldn’t bear to stay for longer than a day at most. There was so much outside to see and do! She felt pity for Credence. Not fully understanding her mother’s motive also rendered her unable to help much. She didn’t know what she could possibly do for Credence after this. Bringing herself back to her original task, Chastity once again checked that the door was firmly closed behind her. Satisfied, she looked back at Credence’s hunched form, surprised that he hadn’t moved an inch. He was visibly shaking- was he afraid of her? She swallowed, nervous.  
“Credence, are you ok?” She asked hesitantly. There was a slight shift to his petrified position. A slight twitch in his hands, maybe? Then there was nothing but his hoarse, rasping breaths and her own softer ones. After a few seconds, she sighed. She had no idea what to do next, she had no idea why he was so unresponsive. The bible had never taught her how to comfort someone, and her mother certainly hadn’t. But then again, it was probably because of mother, she told herself.  
“I’m not going to hurt you like mother does. I know she beats you, Credence.” She tried not to wince at the memory, tried not to do anything that might startle Credence. “I want to help you.”  
He looked surprised, suddenly fixing Chastity with a gaze so full of disbelief that it almost made her reel. A second passed. Then he redirected his gaze onto a particularly interesting scratch on his bedside cabinet, leaving her speechless once more. Clutching the coat and hat tightly, she wondered if he had taken notice of them in the brief glance he had sent in her direction.  
“Why…” His voice was raspy, shaky and uncertain, so rarely heard that she wondered if she had imagined it. “Why are you doing this?”  
There was some sort of fragile hope in that whisper, something so unlike the usual, dark shroud that he had wrapped around him that it compelled her to comfort him, to take away his pain.  
“Because I want to help you,” She replied. Her brother deserved to have somebody helping him. She still couldn’t wrap her head around why their mother was so malevolent- was her method of gaining obedience the unjust act of ruthlessly beating Credence?   
She was all too aware of the time, though, each passing second increasing the risk of discovery. Their mother would find out eventually- and Chastity didn’t dare take her chances at the cruel hands of fate any longer than necessary.  
“Here, I haven’t got much time, but have this.” She felt a pang of sadness at the fact that she had to leave him all alone again, but she managed to force the words out. “Just stay strong, ok?”  
She stepped forward and placed the clothes gently on Credence’s lap. Chastity thought she heard a startled gasp, but she turned and walked out of the room. She didn’t allow herself to look back.

She should’ve known from the moment that she had decided to help her brother that it would have ended badly for her. She should never have tried to defy mother. All the rules that she had so studiously followed, they had all been set to protect her after all. She walked unsteadily down the stairs, hand gripping the railing as hard as she could, trying to relieve some tension. She couldn’t stop herself from trembling, body taught with dread as her mother ordered her to kneel at the foot of the stairs. Obeying, she winced when her knees hit the hard, stone floor.  
“Mother, please…” She sobbed. There was no response. The cold glint in her mother’s eyes remained just as emotionless as they had been before. She knew what was going to happen next, she was going to be beaten bloody like Credence had; she was going to be whipped with a belt under this stone staircase in the very same place that Credence had crouched before, all while her siblings were asleep in their room, oblivious to her mother’s actions just mere meters away. Stiffening, she realized that her mother, her own mother was going to-  
The sickening crack as the leather dug into her tender back jolted her out of her reverie, the realization of what had just happened almost hurting more than the blow itself. She managed to draw in a shaky breath before the belt returned. Chastity hated herself at that moment, torn between the selfish decision of promising to her ma that she wouldn’t help credence again, would never even look at him, but somewhere inside her she knew she couldn’t. Credence was innocent- if her mother was accusing him of being wicked, then maybe it was actually she who was the wicked one-  
No, she refused to break, she wouldn’t... Crack!   
Her knees bruised painfully as she jolted forward- Crack!   
Sprawling across the stairs, she could barely feel the chill as she gripped them tightly. Crack!   
She couldn’t go on any longer, she was going to die, she was going to shatter into a million pieces- Crack!  
“No, no mother please don’t- “She could barely speak, it felt like hands had wrapped around her neck and were currently squeezing mercilessly. She forced in another breath and continued, “I promise I won’t- I won’t help Credence again. I’m sorry mother, I’m sorry…”  
She heard the clink of the belt buckle as it hit the floor and she could almost see the slight smile that was on her mother’s face as she stepped closer, head held high in triumph. The weak light cast by a flickering torch cast her menacing shadow over Chastity’s trembling form.  
“It is the LORD your God you must follow, and him you must revere. Keep his commands and obey him; serve him and hold fast to him. You must purge the evil from among you.”  
Chastity thought back to her bible studies lesson earlier that day. It seemed so far away now…  
“Deuteronomy” She managed, praying that she wouldn’t get it wrong, not now. At her mother’s curt nod, she barely managed to hold back a sigh of relief.  
“You may go to your room.”  
When Chastity finally stumbled up the stairs with the tatters of her gown gathered in her arms, trying desperately not to trip over them, all thoughts of Credence had gone out of her mind. There was nothing she could do- nothing that she wanted to do now that the consequences were being beat. She buried the guilt somewhere deep inside her, unable to bear it any longer. Shivering, she thanked the Lord for allowing her to make it back to her room without much trouble. She didn’t know what she would do if somebody woke up and discovered her like this.


End file.
